Alright Tit by Lisa Lynch

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Sunday, 11 March 2018

Forgive The Beatles Sgt. Pepper reference, it came out of nowhere but
just felt appropriate, so given the “occasion”, I’m sticking with it as this
blogs title.

To be honest, I can’t really believe it’s been 5 years to the day since we all lost this amazing person I am so proud to be able to call my Sister.
I guess it’s been pretty much a whirlwind since that snowy London day back in
2013. My previous blog posts on here have probably seemed to serve as a bit of
an update on how we’ve been getting on as a family. It’s not been planned that
way, but I guess I’ve felt the urge to let people know we’re ok once I’ve
started typing. To be perfectly honest with you though, I don’t even know if
the reality of the situation has fully sunk in for me yet, and maybe it never
will, who knows.

My life has adapted to the shituation, as have the lives of anyone who
was close to Lisa. The Lisa shaped whole in our lives is still there, and
always will be. Even just typing this now, I’m getting an all too familiar and enormous
sense of I CAN’T EFFING BELIEVE MY SISTER ISN’T HERE ANYMORE.

My memories of my Sister haven’t faded one bit, thankfully. I don’t ever
want to forget all the amazing memories I have. Equally, I don’t want to forget
all the painful memories either. I feel like I need the full picture to help me
try to understand and appreciate what has happened. For example, one thing that
won’t ever leave me was saying goodbye to Lisa for the last time, the day
before she passed away. We’d made the call late that evening that I’d head back
up to Derby to be able to see Leanne and Corey and get back to work the next day.
We all knew the end was close, but there wasn’t any way of knowing if it would
be 7 hours or 7 days. At the time of deciding to head home, saying goodbye didn’t
seem like it was going to be the last time I’d see Lisa, as I just assumed that I’d get another call to drop everything again and drive back down to London. But, when giving her my kiss goodbye for the night, she gave me a look that only made sense the day after. It was a look as if to say she knew what was about to happen. It was a look of
goodbye Arseface, but this is it mate.

On reflection, at that point, Lisa knew better than anybody when her time was
going to come. This might sound daft, but as a result of that goodbye we had, to
this day I remain convinced that Lisa planned that ending better than anything
she planned before. I remain convinced, that me being there wasn’t part of her
plan and instead wanted me to be with Leanne and Corey. I remain convinced, that
she hung on an extra day to make sure she didn’t pass away on Mother’s Day. And
more than anything, I remain convinced that she hung on overnight to let Pete,
Mum and Dad get some rest in her room at Trinity before peacefully calling it
a day at a sociable hour the next morning. Lisa barely ever did anything before 8am in the morning, and she damn sure wasn’t going to make an exception on her last day with us!

I appreciate openly reflecting on moments like this is somewhere I’ve not really gone before, either in
person or in writing, but it is by far the most prominent and reoccurring of
the painful memories. I don’t ever want to forget that look and that moment, no
matter how painful it can be, because it summed up A) our relationship and B) Lisa
as a person, better than anything I could imagine – both of which are the most
comforting thoughts that I could ever ask for.

We all know how much I like talking about Lisa. What I don’t think
everybody appreciates is how at ease I generally am talking about her and even
losing her. I guess it could be a bit awkward for people meeting me and then
later finding out from me that my Sister died some years back, or even for some
people aware of the shituation when I’ve dropped Lisa into conversation with
great ease. I get it that some people don’t know where to put themselves when
they hear the words “my Sister” coming out of my mouth. But I tell you what, I bloody
love it when people embrace the topic or even ask me a question about her. I
imagine that this is some sort of coping mechanism or self-therapy kind of
thing for me. I guess I’m just lucky that talking about her brings back great,
comforting memories.

There are things I do struggle with if I’m being honest. I think
I probably struggle with hearing the word Cancer in general. Even in the last
few days I’ve been hearing on the Radio (5 Live) of 3 blogging ladies who all have
Cancer, and the stories became all too familiar to the point I had to switch it
off – I’m sure if I was talking to these ladies in person about Lisa though it might have
been different, and even probably comforting for me! Same with things on TV (with The C Word
being a notable exception!), if someone is suffering with Cancer either in
reality or some sort of Soap etc., I’ll either switch over or leave the room
and do something else. I don’t tend to get upset by it, maybe because I remove
myself from the situation before reaching that point I guess. Another thing is
that I have this almost constant yearning to know how things would be now if
Lisa was still here, and it is fairly painful to realise that I’ll never actually
know what things would be like now if she was still here – I can try to
imagine, but that isn’t enough for me, I want to know.

I don’t know if these are normal thoughts and reactions,
just like I don’t know if being able to talk so at ease about Lisa is normal,
but I guess we’re all different and cope in different ways. It would be
impossible to think or suggest that such a seismic life event as this wouldn’t have
an impact on anybody. I have mates who have lost parents, relatives and friends
way ahead of time and I’m always in awe of how these people cope whilst
continuing to grow as individuals. I could never preach to anyone about how to
deal with a crappy situation like this. I could and would offer support, but
there’s never going to be a one size fits all text book about how to deal with
a Shitstorm!

So, for me, it’s all about maintaining the memories and
talking (either with or at people) openly about Lisa to continue to help me with our loss. We’re immensely lucky that the great
memories are on tap for all of Lisa’s family and friends, and that there’s
always someone not too far away that’s more than willing to share a story or
two about her. Despite all the Bullshit that came with Lisa having The
Bullshit, I can never underestimate how fortunate I am to have these memories
and great people around us all – you know who you are!

In the grand scheme of things, 5 years isn’t really a long
time, and as significant as it feels, there’ll be plenty more milestones such
as today along the way. There’s plenty more missing to be done, reflecting to
be done, talking to be done, and educating my kids about their awesome Auntie
to be done. And if we could find a way to magic her back right now, I could
guarantee there’s not one person that wouldn’t take, and benefit from that opportunity.

Until next time, people.

Big love,

Jamie/James/Arseface

Oh, wait, before you go… If you haven’t already, please take
the time to sponsor Lisa’s good buddy, Katharine Busby. Busby is in the process
of training for this year’s London Marathon, raising money for the awesome
Trinity Hospice in Lisa’s memory. She’s a bloody thoughtful hero to do such a
thing this year, and whatever you can do to support Busby would mean the World
to us all. Just please follow the link below to find out more and donate whatever you can:

Eh up

Welcome to the website of me, Lisa Lynch: author, editor, blogger, wife, Ram, telly-addict, doofus, cancer bitch (but not, I hasten to add, cancer's bitch). The latter of those things is what initially got me blogging, swearing my way through The Bullshit following a pesky breast-cancer diagnosis at 28. Some three years down the line – with newly grown hair, a newly published book and a newly perky rack – I dared to assume that I'd seen the worst… only for the c-word to crop up once more: this time in my bones and brain, and this time incurable.

And so, from being a blog intended to chart my evolution from 'the girl who has cancer' to merely 'the girl', it seems we're back to the former. (If, indeed, it's still acceptable to even call yourself a girl in your thirties. Which, let's be honest, it probably isn't.) But before you write this off as Just Another Moany Health Blog, stick with me. Because cancer or no cancer, curable or incurable… I'll still tell it the way I see it. The universe might be in control of what’s going on in my body, but I'm in control of what’s going on in my blog. Which is why I hope you'll continue to join me as I write my way through my experiences. You see, this isn't a story about some poor, unlucky lass being taken down by cancer; it's simply a story about the extraordinary life of an ordinary girl woman.

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